|
|
Post by Jean Grey on Jun 8, 2013 1:30:24 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] | [atrb=background, imageshack.us/a/img248/4706/jeanbody.jpg] Jean wanted to ride the Cyclone. She remembered the first time she’d been to Coney Island, and she’d been too short to ride; her father had taken her to the teacups at Luna Park instead. Jean felt a lump form in her throat. She wondered if her father was still around, though she doubted it. She’d left her parents without so much as a call-had they grown old and died without her there? Had they missed her? A part of her hoped, truly hoped, that maybe they’d forgotten about her. Then again-she wasn’t sure if that’s how this whole time thing worked. Everyone kept telling them to go back to the past, and maybe she existed in both the past and the future at once and-ugh! She was giving herself a migraine. A few stray thoughts flitted into her head as she tried to recompose herself-minor things, thankfully. Jean took a deep breath, pausing to stare out to the beach. The boardwalk had definitely seen better days, though Jean could tell they’d remodeled it recently; and for some reason there was a sort of anxiety in every mind she passed; it was unnerving and she felt her knees shake against the late spring breeze. Jean pulled her cardigan a little tighter to her, making her way further down the boardwalk. She’d gone to Nathan’s for a lemonade earlier, and now the straw bore indents from her teeth grinding into it; the oral fixation, the distraction. She tossed the yellow cup into a garbage can, finding it strange that even the trash looked new. Like they were covering up an old scar. She could see the Cyclone in the distance. The signs were new, and the Cyclone looked decrepit as ever; Jean was almost pleased to see that it hadn’t changed. That was, until she saw the sign; the stupid thing was closed for repairs. Stupid broken roller coaster. Jean sighed. Feeling a wave of disappointment bubble in the pit of her stomach. She spared a look over her shoulder, to the teacups. Those were new, she could tell; but they were open, and that was good enough. With a sigh, walked back to Luna Park, heading straight for the teacups. She slipped the operator a bit of extra money (thank you, Kitty), with the promise that he wouldn’t stop the ride until she asked him to. With a whir, the ride began to spin, and Jean spun with it.
WORDS: 417 TAG: PROFESSOR LOGAN WEARING: HERENOTES: SHE DREAMED OF PARA-PARA-PARADISE
|  |
|
|
|
|
Post by Headmaster Logan on Jun 8, 2013 20:38:26 GMT -5
Logan reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a fresh cigar. After instinctively sniffing the butt of the cigar, to check if it was properly prepared, he placed it in her mouth and lit the end. As he walked towards the tea cups, the unique aromas of the Coney Island boardwalk hit his scenes. Hot dogs fresh of the grill, the sea salt of the Atlantic Ocean, and even the heated sugar from cotton candy. He could pinpoint them all if he wanted. With another puff of his cigar, Logan sniffed the air to locate another scent. A scent that he knew all too well. A scent that he could never forget.
Jean Grey.
Logan would be the first person to tell you that Beast's plan, as suggested by Bobby Drake, to bring the original First Class of X-Men from the 1960s to the modern day just for Scott Summers to see what kind of person he would become was one of the stupidest ideas in the history of stupid ideas. Not only was it incredibly dangerous for the time stream itself, but the innate knowledge of what their lives are like in the future was too damaging for their psyche. Images of young Warren in hysterics over meeting his modern, soulless self replayed over and over in the Canadians head.
Despite his insistence in returning the original five back to their timeline, he had reluctantly let them stay in the current timeline. Although Logan would never admit it out loud, he was glad to have them with him. Perhaps with their guidance, the younger Cyclops could learn from the mistakes of his elder. With the fact that Summers was lose on the world, Logan needed all the help he could get to win the newly restored mutant population over to his side.
On another note, Logan was happy to see her again. To see Jean breathing, standing among them, to feel her presence in the school brought great joy to his adamantium heart. It wasn't a trick this time, it was not a clone or a manifestation of Emma Frost. It was Jean.
Logan sighed as he stopped in front of the tea cups. As the spun around, Logan caught a glimpse of a flash of red hair. There was the young Jean Grey, looking as lively and vibrant as ever. At the same time however, she seemed sad. Logan couldn't blame her if this was true, considering everything that she just went through with being dragged out of her own timeline into a future she doesn't understand.
Logan approached the tea cup operator and pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket. After a little persuasion, the man stopped the ride to allow Logan to jump on. He quickly made his way over to Jean's cup and sat down next to her.
"How you doin' Jeannie?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Jean Grey on Jun 14, 2013 0:11:02 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] | [atrb=background, imageshack.us/a/img248/4706/jeanbody.jpg]
The dizziness was a welcome relief to Jean; the swirls in her head were far more relaxing than the low buzz of foreign thoughts. She let her eyes flutter shut, content to feel the wind whipping against her cheeks. Her hair began to come out of it’s ponytail, and for a moment she thought of fixing it-but opted to just do nothing, instead. She didn’t raise her hands to her hair, nor did she telekinetically keep her strands of red hair from ghost across her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips. She hadn’t been still like this in some time, even in her own time. It was always training and danger and issues with Scott. And now, it was training and danger and more issues with Scott. Jean let herself slump forward in the teacup, resting her palms on the silver wheel of the teacup. She could do this for hours, if they let her.
Jean was drawn back into reality when the ride slowed-she felt a frown forming. She definitely hadn’t signaled for the ride to stop; on the contrary, she’d finally begun to relax. Her eyes snapped open, a sudden burst of sadness hitting her. For a moment, Jean thought it was her own-but she knew her own emotions, and this wasn’t like her at all. It was rougher somehow. It was a sadness that felt almost nostalgic, somehow, though Jean couldn’t exactly put her finger on it. “Professor Logan,”
Jean murmured, gazing upwards at the headmaster. She reached for the latch of the teacup, fumbling only slightly as the little door opened. She brushed her hand over the vinyl of the seat, inviting him to sit next to her.
Jean gave him a polite smile, hoping he didn’t realize how uncomfortable his sadness was making her. Mainly, she just didn’t understand it. She had the creeping suspicion that it was somehow her fault. It was always stronger when she was around-and it was getting harder to keep his thoughts out. She was curious, and his thoughts were-well, they were persistent. But Jean wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he was thinking, really. He made her nervous. Peaking into his head would probably only make her nerves worse. She gave a nod to the ride’s operator, and the cup began to speed up again.
“Are you here to bring me back to school, Professor?” |
[/color] Jean asked quietly, her voice heavy with disappointment. “I was planning to come back this evening,”[/color] she continued, moving her hands over the wheel and spinning the cup faster, “when I was ready.”[/color] She shot him a wounded look, hoping he’d believe her-she was telling the truth, of course, though that might not actually help her get out of trouble. She couldn’t tell with him, really. Professor Logan was unpredictable. “I’m sorry,” she offered, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t mean any harm.” [/color]
WORDS:523 TAG:PROFESSOR LOGAN WEARING:HERENOTES:[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/color][/td][/tr][tr][td] [/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
|
|
|
Post by Headmaster Logan on Jun 15, 2013 0:40:59 GMT -5
There were very few things that made could upset James Howlett.
Sure there were endless ways of making him angry. His students, his enemies and even the closest friends learned that the hard way. Sure there were a few, emphasis on few, ways of making him happy too. Those ways usually involved beer or training. But still, very few things could make him upset.
Seeing Jean's reaction to the teacups slowing down, as her world went from a great blur to stillness, was one of those few things.
A frown etched itself across the headmaster's face as the young redheaded Marvel Girl flashed him a small, yet polite smile. He let out a sigh as he took in everything in. He was still amazed, happy to see Jean Grey still alive, but at the same time he knew it wasn't the same. While she talked like Jean, smiled like her, smelled like her and shared all the wonderful and beautiful things about her, it wasn't his Jean. She wasn't the woman that he would given his entire soul for. She wasn't the woman that he sparred with Cyclops over. She wasn't the woman he loved.
Despite it all however, she was still Jean Grey, and to see her sad made him sad too.
Truth be told, Logan was looking for the right opportunity to interact with the young, out-of-time psychic. With all the chaos that was going in the world concerning mutant rights, not to mention his duties as a teacher and an Avenger, Logan rarely had the time to do just this. But now, after hearing how she snuck out of the mansion at night, he decided that this was his moment, this was his time to sit down and talk to her. To ask her how she was adjusting to the brave new world that she was dragged into by Beast. To see how she felt about this whole Mutant Revolution going on.
Are you here to bring me back to school, Professor? I was planning to come back this evening,” She said as she spun the cup faster and faster, causing Logan to grip onto the cup hard, his cigar flying out of his mouth as they increased speed. His eyes went to follow the flying stogie, only to be relieved when it landed on the the pavement. “when I was ready.”
She then proceeded to give him a wounded look, an innocent look that said "I'm sorry, please don't bring me back". Truth be told, Logan was trying to bring her back to the school, but he figured they should at least talk. He knew how hard it was for Jean and he didn't want her to feel too uncomfortable around him.
"It's alright Jeannie," Logan said, the smallest smile appearing on his bearded face. "I'm hear ta talk. How is everythin' goin' fer ya Red?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Jean Grey on Jun 29, 2013 1:52:03 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] | [atrb=background, imageshack.us/a/img248/4706/jeanbody.jpg]
Jean thought of two things as the Professor sat down next to her in the teacup; the first was, “why did you come out here for me?” And then second was, “who do you think I’m supposed to be?” It’d grown increasingly obvious in her time here that Jean Grey meant something to James Howlett, though she wasn’t entirely sure what or just how much. But it was there, always in the back of his mind. She could feel it. And it was unnerving, in a way, but it was also very sweet and it made her rather sad when she thought about it, that this adult man was killing himself over so many feelings for a unexciting girl like her.
The smell of cigar smoke burned Jean’s nostrils and made her eyes water-though she knew that Professor Logan liked them, and didn’t want to be rude by asking him to stop. Instead, she waited for the next spin and let her powers slip around the cigar, subtly wrapping a telekinetic tendril around it and pushing it out of his mouth. The cigar landed facedown on the pavement, where Jean quickly put it out with another tendril. She spared Professor Logan a pitying look-he seemed rather disappointed at losing his cigar, but as Jean took a deep breath of fresh sea air she found it was much nicer not to have that filth clouding her lungs.
“How am I?” she asked, and the question hung heavily in the air. She bit her lip, not entirely sure how to respond. Her eyes flickered down to the silver wheel of the teacup, at how small her pale hands looked in contrast to Professor Logan’s larger ones. Funny how he fit his blades into his bones. She leaned forward, hoping to spin the teacup a little faster, and her hand brushed over his. She took in a sharp intake of breath, suddenly feeling very awkward. There was always some kind of tension with Professor Logan.
Quite frankly, there were abundance of men in Jean’s life; more than she knew what to do with. There was the Professor; not Logan but Xavier, the one who’d been guiding her and had suddenly been taken away, leaving her stranded. There was Scott, who was more of a boy than a man and who made her heart flutter sometimes but he was so distant and confusing and-“I’m lonely,”
she finally said, to the newest and most prominent figure in her rapidly hectic life. And he was someone to her, or he was supposed to be, and she wondered if it hurt him just to be near her. It certainly made her feel a bit off. She sighed, turning to lock eyes with Professor Logan. “What is it about me-” |
[/color] she said, trailing off. She sighed, “what is it about us that you’re so hung up on, Professor Logan?”[/color]
WORDS:514 TAG:PROFESSOR LOGAN WEARING:HERENOTES:[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/color][/td][/tr][tr][td] [/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
|
